


Saving Amy

by sarahbeara2010



Category: Justin Bieber (Musician)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Self-Harm, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahbeara2010/pseuds/sarahbeara2010
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night that he proposed to his longtime girlfriend, Justin Bieber was killed in a car accident.</p><p>Now, he watches from Heaven...and prays to God that there's still hope for saving Amy.</p><p>***Inspired by the song 'Saving Amy,' by Brantley Gilbert***</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saving Amy

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys enjoy the story!! ")
> 
> This story has also been published on www.justinbieberfanfiction.com and www.jonasbrothersfanfictionarchive.com.

**Saving Amy**

_Amy's got the letters I wrote; my picture in a frame. She's had a year to let go. She's still wearing my ring. And it hasn't left her finger since the night that I proposed; when I promised her forever before I took her home._

Looking down, I can see her. My Amy. The girl who was the love of my life and still means absolutely everything and more to me.

She's sitting on the floor in her bedroom in front of a trunk at the foot of her bed. And the things that are coming out of the trunk make it easy to see that I still mean absolutely everything and more to her as well.

She takes out a stack of love letters, and although there is a smile on my face, I can't help but roll my eyes. I hadn't even sounded like a man when I wrote those letters; the way that I sounded was more along the lines of a lovesick schoolboy. I remember how after I wrote each one, I stopped and re-read them, marveling at the effect that this girl obviously had on me. I had never said those kinds of things to a girl before I met her. But then again, I had never felt so strongly about a girl before I met her, either.

She smiles and caresses the top letter with her fingertips before carefully placing the stack off to the side and returning her attention to the trunk. The next item to be brought out is a framed photograph of me that was taken eight years ago, when we were sixteen and had been dating for a little over two months. We had been on the way home from a day at the beach with friends, and I had fallen asleep with my head resting in her lap. I had been roused by the flash of the camera and the soft giggles of her and our friends as she showed them the picture that she had just taken. I thought it looked horrible, but she loved it and regarded it as one of the most adorable things that she had ever seen, so I had let her keep it.

I watch as she places a kiss on the photograph, that same smile still on her face. That smile is breaking my heart. Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful...because _everything_ about her is beautiful. But it doesn't hold a candle to her _real_ smile. _That_ smile--the one that I fell so completely head-over-heels in love with--hasn't been around for a long time. She's tried to bring it back; I know she has...but it hasn't happened. Now, her only smiles are tinged with sadness...just like her big, beautiful blue eyes.

It's been a year--right down to the day--since the last time that she was genuinely happy. A year since her outgoing, talkative personality faded away and was replaced by an introverted, quiet one that no one recognizes. She doesn't say much of anything anymore. Don't get me wrong, she's not being snobby or anything; that's the last thing that she would _ever_ be. What happened just changed her.

As she removes more stuff from the trunk--stuffed animals I'd given her, pictures of me and of the two of us together, a hoodie that had once been mine--the ring on her left hand shimmers and shines. Some girls in her position might have taken it off by now, but not her. It's been there since the night that I put it there. The night that I promised her that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.

The night that everything changed.

_But I never made it home that night. A part of her died, too. I've watched her losing her mind, and there's nothing I can do._

I close my eyes as the memory of that night comes flooding back. It was our seven-year anniversary and a week after we had both graduated from college.

I had taken her out to the lake, which is where we had gone on our first date. At the conclusion of our evening--right in the exact spot where we had shared our first kiss--I had gotten down on one knee and poured my heart out to her about how much I loved her and how I never wanted to live without her before presenting her with the ring and asking her to be mine forever. We had both cried while that was going on and cried even harder when she said yes and leapt into my arms, her lips attacking mine passionately before we managed to part long enough for me to slip the glittering diamond over her knuckle.

Throughout the roughly twenty-minute drive to her house, the two of us continued to cry, laugh, and exchange countless I-love-yous in the midst of chattering about how happy we were and how happy everyone else was going to be when they found out. We made plans to gather our families for lunch the following afternoon and tell them before assembling our closest friends for dinner that night and telling them as well. Then, of course, the next step would be to make it Facebook official and let everybody else in on our glorious little secret.

But I never made it home that night.

I don't really remember much, but I ended up hearing the story a few hours after I got Here. And yes, by Here, I do mean Heaven. I heard my story from none other than Jesus Christ Himself as the two of us walked down the golden streets.

About five minutes after I had dropped Amy off at her front door (and about two minutes before I would have been safe and sound at my own front door), I was involved in a head-on collision with a drunk driver.

The accident was reported fairly quickly; a couple of guys drove up on it just a few minutes after it happened and called 9-1-1. The paramedics that arrived on the scene were amazing; they did everything that they should have done in the exact manner in which they should have done it.

I drifted in and out of consciousness on the way to the hospital. Whenever I was awake, the paramedics tried to get me to talk in order to help me stay conscious. I was told that the only thing I said to them--over and over again--was, "Amy."

I tried to hold on; I really and truly did. But it was hard; harder than anything that I had ever attempted to do before. God could see that I was seriously struggling, and He decided to put an end to it.

My death was a peaceful one. For a moment, the cripplling pain that was ravaging my entire body ceased completely, and I felt only pure bliss. Then, I just felt myself getting sleepy. I took one last breath, closed my eyes...and entered my new home.

The downside of all of this, of course, is that while things were immediately peachy-keen for me, my loved ones had to suffer. I can't lie, it was difficult watching all of them cope with the loss of me. I watched them find out about my death; watched them attend my wake and funeral; watched them as they all tried to pick themselves up and go on with their lives as best as they could.

The hardest person to watch, of course, was Amy. Honestly, I think losing me took a bigger toll on her than it did on anybody else. Day by day, everyone else managed to do a little bit better and get a little bit stronger. But not Amy. A part of her died along with me, and she couldn't revive it. If anything, she just seemed to slide backward. Drifting farther and farther away from the people and the things that she had once be so close to. Slowly losing her mind.

And I couldn't do anything to help her.

_Yeah, sometimes, she goes crazy; screaming out my name; saying, "Baby, please come save me."_

As she sits there on her bedroom floor, all of the items which were previously occupying the trunk now spread out around ther, she picks up the hoodie that was once mine and brings it up to her face, her nose nuzzling it gently as she inhales deeply. I can tell by the way that she sighs that it still holds my scent; a scent that I know she always found great comfort in.

A soft sob escapes her lips, and her grip on the shirt tightens. She inhales deeply once more, and all of her walls come tumbling down. Her body begins to shake with her quiet weeping as she embraces the shirt even closer to her body.

"Justin!" she screams out suddenly, starting to cry even harder.

She sobs wordlessly for a few moments before speaking once again, louder this time. "Justin! Justin, I need you! Please come save me! Please, baby, come save me!"

She continues to cry there on her bedroom floor for a matter of minutes before she eventually silences. Rising to her feet with no noise other than a quiet sniffle, she slowly walks over to the door and progresses down the hallway to the bathroom.

My heart drops down into the pit of my stomach as I watched the scene unfold. I  know exactly what is about to happen...and although it sounds weird, I would much rather watch her lay on the floor and cry than watch what she's about to do.

Flipping on the light, she begins going through the drawers, opening them up and sifting through their contents before quietly closing them again. When she reaches the third drawer, she finds what she is looking for.

The razor blade shines in the overhead light as she takes it in her hand and sits down on the edge of the bathtub. She pushes up the sleeve of her shirt and balls the hand attached to her now-exposed forearm into a fist while the other hand keeps a tight grip on the razor blade.

I want to look away; to focus my attention on anything except for what is about to happen in that bathroom. But like every other time that it has happened over the past year, I am unable to look away.

I see her tighten up her arm. I see the razor blade make contact with the pale scars on her soft, beautiful skin. I see those pale scars reopen; the bright red blood ooze out and drip into the bathtub. I see Amy's face; it looks pained at first, but after just a matter of seconds, she goes numb, and it doesn't hurt her anymore. I see her create what will become three new scars before she stops and just sits there, staring at the blood dripping from her wrists and the razor blade that is still in her grasp.

She starts to cry again, silently this time. Slowly, she rises to her feet and steps over to the cabinet, taking out a washcloth that she places against her wrist, wincing slightly as she applies pressure to her wounds.

Once the bleeding stops, she carefully removes the washcloth and takes two large bandages out of one of the drawers. After placing the two bandages over her cuts, she pulls down the sleeve of her shirt before washing the traces of blood from the bathtub.

With silent tears still slipping from her eyes, she turns out the light and makes her way back down the hallway to her bedroom. Picking my hoodie up off of the floor, she takes it with her into her bed and cuddles it close to her as she lies there and stares at the framed photograph of the two of us that sits on her bedside table.

"Please save me, Justin," she whispers, closing her eyes. "Save me."

_I wish she knew I'd do anything to kiss the tears right off her face, tell her everything's okay, feel her heartbeat next to mine, and make up for lost time._

Heaven is an incredibly happy place; even happier than anyone could ever even _begin_ to imagine it being. Even so, as I look down at my fiance (I still can't bring myself to say _ex_ -fiance), my heart is aching.

I would give anything to be there with her right now; to be kissing away her tears and telling her that everything is okay; holding her close and feeling our hearts beat against one another in the perfect sync that they had always seemed to possess. I want to make up for every single second that she has been forced to spend without me over the past year; every single second that she has spent unhappy.

_Oh, but God, I know I can't. But You can't let her live this way. It's too late for saving me. But there's still hope for saving Amy._

"God," I call out, falling to my knees. Just like in the hard times down on Earth, I feel His presence right here with me as my eyes remain riveted to my precious Amy. "God...look at her. She's hurting _so bad_. And I know that I can't go back down there and help her; I understand that. But please..."

I trail off, swallowing a lump in my throat. "Please, God. You can't let her live this way. She's not living a healthy life right now at all, God; You know she isn't. Like I said, I know that I can't go back down there. I know I couldn't have been saved from that wreck. It was too late for me."

I pause once more, watching as Amy softly cries herself to sleep. "But it's not too late for her, God," I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "It _can't_ be too late."

**"It's not too late, My child."**

I feel His presence draw even nearer to me as His voice speaks.

**"Amy will be fine. She doesn't realize it right now--and neither do you--but she will be fine. She is a strong young woman; she always has been. Her faith has always been in Me, and I know that it still is. She will be fine, My son. Amy will be fine."**

_Now, three years have gone by. She's finally living life. And I still watch her sometimes, just to make sure she's alright._

Today is the three-year anniversary of my death. Amy is doing much better these days. She's smiling. She's laughing. She's _living_.

I'm doing better, too. I don't worry about her constantly; I don't even watch her constantly. I know that the words of God were correct. Amy is strong and has her faith in Him. She really has turned out to be fine and is getting even better with each passing day.

While I am no longer a constant vigilante, I do check in on her every now and again...just to make sure that she's really and truly doing okay. And each time I look down at her, the things that I see warm my heart and make me so proud.

_She knows I'll always be there in her heart and in her dreams. 'Cause God, I promised her forever, and that's one promise I intend to keep._

My ring still adorns her left ring finger exactly the way that it has done for the past three years. As of yet, she still hasn't ever tried dating again and says that she has no intention to. She's had plenty of offers, believe me. Amy is a beautiful and sweet girl who any guy would absolutely _kill_ to be with. And she's been approached by a lot of beautiful and sweet guys with whom she would be absolutely _perfect_. But, she says, nothing beyond friendship is ever going to happen between her and any of them. Her heart is already taken.

She talks to me sometimes. I love those moments; love them more than just about anything else. Like right now, as she follows through with her three-year-old tradition of placing a long-stemmed white rose on my headstone. Had we gotten married, white roses would have been the flower featured at our wedding ceremony.

"Hey, Justy," she says, kneeling down in front of my stone. She kisses her thumb and then places it over the picture of me on the front of the stone, which she silently looks at for a moment before speaking again.

"It's hard to believe that you've really been gone for three years," she says. "Actually, it's still kind of hard to believe that you've been gone for _any_ amount of time."

She pauses once more, smiling as her eyes fill up with tears. "I guess that's just because I still feel you with me," she tells me, reaching out and caressing the picture of me. "I feel you with me every minute of every day. I know you're watching over me; you and Jesus and God. I dream about you all the time, and you're always in my heart."

"You got that right, baby girl," I whisper, feeling my own eyes fill up with tears as a smile forms on my face. "I'm always here. I meant it when I promised you forever."

_And kiss the tears right off her face, tell her everything's okay, feel her heartbeat next to mine, and make up for lost time._

She's had a good day. She spent it with our families and our closest friends exactly the way that she has done the other two years. Her behavior this year was an incredibly large improvement from that of the previous years. She's finally back to the old Amy that everybody knew and loved.

Now, however, as she lies in her bed, I can tell that she's having a hard time staying happy. She's tossing and turning relentlessly, and I can tell that it's only a matter of time before she breaks down.

Sure enough, her cheeks are wet with tears within just a few moments.

"Justin, honey, I miss you," she whispers into the darkness. "I tried to do good for you today, but...I can't handle being strong anymore."

She sniffles, wiping at her eyes. "It just doesn't seem fair, you know?" she continues. "I mean, you should be here with me. We should be all snuggled up with a baby monitor on the bedside table, listening for our baby to wake up hungry or in need of a diaper change. We should be having a life together."

"We will one day, baby girl," I say. "We will. Just keep your faith in God,and we'll have an eternity to spend together. You'll never be sad like this again."

_Oh, but God, I know I can't. But You can't let her live this way. It's too late for saving me. But there's still hope for saving Amy._

I feel my eyes begin to sting as I continue watching Amy, who is still weeping softly in the darkness of her bedroom.

"God, please help her," I beg. "Give her peace, Lord. Make sure that she doesn't lose her faith."

**"Peace will come to her, My child. Peace will come, and she won't lose her faith. She will keep that faith as she should, and because she does, she will be greatly rewarded when the time is right.**

He was right about peace coming to her. Before He even finishes speaking, Amy is completely tranquil; sound asleep without a care in the world.

"Thank You, God," I whisper. "And goodnight, Amy."

_I'll kiss the tears right off her face when I walk her through these gates; feel her heartbeat next to mine and make up for lost time._

Now, sixty-three years later, here I stand at the gates  of Heaven. God has decided that it's time for my Amy to come Home, and she'll be here any minute.

She never dated, married, or had any children, but she lived a wonderful life. Three years after the accident, she went back to school and studied to become a grief counselor--and an absolutely _amazing_ one, at that. She helped so many people put their lives back together after situations such as the one that she went through.

And, of course, my ring never left her finger.

And now, when she gets here, she'll be able to never leave my side. I'll be able to kiss away her tears (which will only be ones of pure joy from here on out; never of sadness), feel her heartbeat in sync with mine, and make up for every minute that we were forced to spend apart.

"Justin?"

I am snapped out of my rambling thoughts by a voice softly calling my name.

I turn my head toward the voice, and...

And there she is. My Amy. Although she was ninety years old when she passed away (in the midst of a peaceful slumber), she now looks exactly the way that she did on the night that I proposed to her. Well, actually, I take that back. Although I never would have imagined it being possible, she looks even more beautiful than she did on that night; more beautiful than I have ever seen her look before.

"Yeah, baby girl, it's me." I smile broadly at her as she slowly makes her way over to me, awe coloring her gorgeous face.

"Justy!" she squeals, running and leaping into my arms. Laughing, I catch her and gleefully twirl her around as she kisses my face over and over before pulling back and looking into my eyes.

"I missed you _so much_!" she exclaims breathlessly.

"I missed you, too, baby girl," I reply before placing a passionate kiss on her lips. "But don't worry, because that won't ever happen again. Because we'll never be apart again. We have eternity to spend together now."

We share one more kiss, and then, I take her by the hand and guide her through the gate. "Welcome Home, baby girl. You're going to love it here!"

_And God, I'll thank You every day for giving her that ounce of faith that led her right back here to me. But most of all, for saving Amy._

"Justin, this is _incredible_!"

Amy has been exclaiming that over and over again while I've shown her around. She's gasped nonstop as she has taken everything in--the streets of gold, the mansions, the angels, the music, and all of the countless other wonderful things that her new home has to offer.

"You haven't seen _anything_ yet, baby girl," I tell her with a smile as I begin to lead her toward our final destination. "I saved the best for last. Come on!"

She follows me eagerly, and before she knows it, we're in the Throne Room in front of none other than God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

**"Amy, My child. Welcome Home."**

"Thank you, Father," she responds, immediately falling to her knees at His feet while tears of joy cascade down her cheeks. "Thank You _so much_!"

"Yes, thank You, God," I say, kneeling as well. "I will never be able to say thank You enough. Thank You for helping my baby girl hold onto her faith, which brought her back to me to spend eternity in this wonderful place with You and Your Son and Your Spirit and all of Your faithful servants. Thank You so much for saving her, God. Thank You."

_Thank You, God, for saving Amy._

 


End file.
